Footprints in the Sand
by Gypsy Feet
Summary: It's impossible to explain, you just have to read it. "Become more then footprints in the sand, turn into people." yah, read it, and then review. ONE SHOT


**Footprints in the Sand**

**By: Emmy.**

**Warning, this may be a little hard to understand. If you want to tell me something etc, please do, i luv reviews. I'm open to suggestions and i know this is wierd, i don't even know why i'm posting it. I kinda like the discriptions on it.**

I sit here, the gulls call and the wind pulls at my hair. The thing is, I find this captivating, the grains that massage my feet, the sun that darkens my skin and the wind that soothes my tired body. I feel like I cannot move as I watch the sun spill out the last of its warm rays, turning my world into a magical gold, except for my shadow that goes on and on. I know that it isn't proper for someone as me to be here, but I'm a statue, golden and still, with my feet buried in the warm sand.

Every year, on this date, I see them. The three that haunt my dreams all year round. When I first saw them, I was one and ten years old. And still, a decade later, I find myself standing here, waiting for them. The sky, pink and orange, is faultless, except for a few fluffy clouds. The excitement grows in me, as the last of my golden orb drift below its horizon and whether by a trick of the light, or pure magic, I see black sails. Just a glimpse of them, but black sails all the same. It is like the sign, if I see the sails, then I'll see _them_.

As the stars come out in the fading light, one by one, I make out three figures on the point. The ones that seem to captivate me so and cast a spell… _their _spell. I can't move, yet again. I used to hide behind the dunes, but this time I want them to see me. I want to see if I can walk through them like ghosts or if I'm merely hallucinating. For some reason they don't seem quite right. Maybe it's their garb, so different to that of today. All I know is that they are the sort of people that stick in your mind and play with your thoughts, confusing you. I stand there, in plain sight, waiting, hoping, for them to see me, talk to me, captivate me more. Tell me their secrets and show me their magic. Become more then pictures, turn into people.

I can just make out the one in front. He always leads the others; he has a sort of springing sway to his step which makes him look carefree and drunk. I like that, it amuses me to watch him work along animatedly, and another thing about him… he seems to talk with his hands. They are always swinging about and accompanying his words. The torch, fire burning on a stick, waves about and looks like a firefly when at a great distance. Other then his strange body language the man is still unusual. He wears old, tattered, and odd clothes that would make him stick out like a sore thumb if you saw him anywhere else, on this beach it looked… natural… almost. His hair is mattered and has different things; most are shiny, woven into it. He has a strange beard that branches out into two plats. He has black smudged around his eyes, which flicker in the firelight with a fierce sense of freedom. And when he looks out to sea, his playfulness is gone and he frightens me, the amount of passion that burns in the shining slits is amazing.

Behind him a woman walks peacefully, her hand linked with another man's. The woman can only be described as beautiful. Her flowing, golden hair, sparkling eyes, floorless skin apart from a few freckles and a sweet smile. She has the grace of a swan and a confidence that is found in few. The man that she is walking with looks perfectly content and in complete love. His warm, brown eyes are sparkling with it and excitement. He has wavy dark brown hair and only a bit of facial hair, he looks completely proud of himself at the fact that the woman holding his hands is just as content as he. His clothing is simple but smart, still very much different to that of today. The lady's is similar to the man that is accompanying her, despite the fact that one could easily picture her in magnificent gowns.

The difference between the lady and the leader is akin to that of an angel and a devil. And indeed, with the firelight playing on his features the man does have a mysterious air about him, and the lady had a presence about her that made you feel at peace.

Never before have I seen persons so different, yet so _right_ together. They aren't that far away from me now, maybe the length of two houses.

And now they've spotted me, my eyes met the torch-holder's and he grinned…

* * *

A huddled figure smiled softly as she stared at the faded page of her great, great aunt's diary. Her hand grazed the page lightly as she reread the last words in it.

Her mind drifted into itself as she wondered what had happened next. But that was the last thing written before she disappeared. The book had been passed down for generations, by the time it had been discovered, the police enquiry was completed and for some reason it hadn't been enough evidence. In any case, she had been the first to be able to open it. She had picked the lock when she received it after her mother died from cancer. Now she had finished it, her last unexplored connection to her past. She was parentless, just twenty, and alone in the world. She looked up with her teary eyes as the sun disappeared below the horizon. The salt on the breeze mingling with the salt on her cheeks, and for a second she thought she saw black. But once she'd wiped her eyes there was nothing unusual. She looked back down to the worn page. As she traced the last words with a finger her eyes glinted with tears and determination. She grabbed her biro and scrawled a few, untidy words.

_In memory of Lillian Stewart and her great niece, Amelia Black._

_May they have complete happiness_

_Wherever they are _

_And in whatever they do._

_1993_

It was completely impulsive but it seemed to fit. The light she had written by flickered and she realized that it couldn't have possibly been the sun. She turned to see a bright flame just behind her, on some driftwood, which was reflected in a pair of dark eyes, lined in black. With eyes narrowed the woman focused into the dark and saw three other pairs of eyes. As her heart leapt to her throat she looked back down to the paper, it said there were three people… who was the other? Then it clicked, Lillian Stewart. Only, it wasn't physically possible for people to live that long and look the same, at least, it wasn't normal.

"Feel like joining us, M'lady?" the torch man asked with a smirk.

Despite the confusion pounding in her ears she couldn't run, she had to stay, she had to _know_.

"Where to?" she heard herself ask.

His gaze intensified as it flickered away from her to a point that he alone could see, as he looked back at her he whispered two words that would change her life forever, "The horizon."

**Sorry, i had to fix that up so you would get it. If you don't, then it was basically just someone reading their ancestors diary and then history repeating itself, I might make it a story if people want me to, but I don't think I will. You have imaginations, use them to make up what happens next.**


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